Fallen
by spyder-m
Summary: He'd always wanted to play the hero. Implied ShuuRan.


A/N: Just an idea that I threw together quickly. Inspired by the latest Bleach chapter, 412, so yeah... Spoilers for that, I guess. It's implied ShuuRan. I hope this came out okay, seeing as I've been struggling about with getting stories done lately... But anyway, enjoy! :D

**Disclaimer**: Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo. Yada yada yada, on with the fic!

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Fallen

His legs almost buckled under the weight of his tired, aching body as he struggled to maintain the pace in his stride, running desperately through the chaotic battlefields of Fake Karakura Town. Panic striken, the normally stoic Hisagi Shuuhei proceeded with Kazeshini already unsheathed and ready, seemingly preparing for the worst.

Under any other circumstances, the Ninth Division Lieutenant wasn't sure he would have been able to summon the strength to carry on, as he was right now. But the situation at hand was dire.

"_Rangiku-san_," Shuuhei thought, clutching at a blinding pain shooting through his abdomen. The very wound he'd attained just moments earlier, after being stabbed by his former Captain just moments earlier.

He grit his teeth, willing himself to perservere through the agony, his focus on finding her, potentially even having to save her, never breaking.

It was nothing, he told himself. Nothing compared to what she had been through.

He didn't have much time.

Kira had informed him briefly about what had happened. He told him that upon seeing Ichimaru again, Rangiku; who was still recovering from the potentially fatal injuries she'd received at the hands of Allon; had begun following after both he and Aizen, obviously to confront her old friend, obviously looking for some answers.

That notion alone terrified Shuuhei. For Rangiku, as strong as she was, had been in a critical position just moments earlier. Even the description 'critical' condition didn't seem to do the extent of her wound justice; she'd had the entire right side of her ribcage just ripped off! It was amazing that she was even alive. She was now seeking out her old, childhood friend, who just so happened to be Aizen's second in command.

Shuuhei had left Kira to tend to the injured Shinigami once more; feeling that his own assistance in that area would have been nothing more than a hindrance; and followed the direction Rangiku had gone.

If only his body had been more well-rested, or he'd been able to sustain less damage during his last battle, maybe he could have made a difference.

But it was not to be.

His heart dropped when he finally saw it.

A lone figure, lying lifeless and limp upon a barren, empty rooftop, claud in all too familiar loose-fitting, dark kimono.

In a moment of desperation, Shuuhei silent prayed that the person before him was someone, anyone, else.

Anyone other than her...

_No..._

His voice cracked as he attempted to speak her name, cradling her head in his arms, holding her now cold, motionless body closer to his own.

All words failed him.

Instead nothing more than an anguished, cry escaped from the back of his throat. He felt his eyes sting with tears, and snapped them shut tightly, refusing to accept what he had just witnessed.

The blood seeping profusely from the deep wound on her neck; hot and sticky, marking the porcelain skin of her sternum and shoulder blades, matting her erratic, tangled locks of hair, rising up through his nostrils in a foul, sickening stench that made his stomach churn.

Her vibrant blue irisies, so alluring and breath taking were now hazy and unfocused. Her face, twisted and contorted into an expression of horror, betrayal, agony...

_No... This isn't happening. It can't!_

Matsumoto Rangiku, quite possibly the strongest person he knew, had been reduced to nothing by her a man who once claimed to be her friend. Her grip on Haineko now loose and slack, symbolises her last, vain attempt to defend herself. It was so like her; proud, determined even in her last moments to fight against the obstacles before her...

He'd dreamed of situations like this before, where Rangiku would find herself falling victim to some kind of peril, and he would come to rescue her...

Except none of them had never ended like this.

He'd failed to saved her.

He'd failed to offer sufficient support and comfort to her throughout her entire ordeal with Ichimaru.

He'd failed to even have to courage to express how he felt about her...

Shuuhei gasped, feeling tears begin to pool freely from his eyes now, dripping . But with shaking hands, he delicately brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes clenched shut, before gently pressing his lips against her own, in a short, bittersweet caress.

The very actions he'd failed to take while she was alive.

Now it was too late.

...

_Ichimaru _Shuhei thought, a bitter hatred burning through him.

The man had infuriated Shuuhei enough when he had defected from Soul Society, as the single action had stolen away the cheerful, free-spirited smile of Rangiku's he had loved so much.

But to actually cross blades with her; as if all the suffering he'd put her through alone had not been enough; and the life of a woman loved and admired by so many was in Shuuhei's mind, unforgiveable.

His sharp eyes glared furiously in the direction of the culprit, his hands shaking with fury as he grasped his Zanpaktou between a tightly clenched right fist, his words uttered in a callous, remorseless tone.

"Reap, Kazeshini..."

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A/N: In regards to the relation of this fic to the latest Bleach chapter, let me just clarify; I don't think Rangiku is dead. Seriously injured, maybe, but not dead. I just thought this alternate take would make for a good fic. Anyway, please R&R! Let me know what you thought of this.


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